


summer candids; fhirdiad, 7/16/08

by riahk



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Middle School, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Binary Ashe, Photography, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29039241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riahk/pseuds/riahk
Summary: In the year following his brother’s death, Felix has become pretty good friends with his sweet photography- and comic book-obsessed classmate Ashe. But their budding friendship is challenged by the fact that Ashe is moving to Arianrhod at the end of the summer. In light of this reality, they try to make it count.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Felix Rarepair Week 2021





	summer candids; fhirdiad, 7/16/08

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks! I am so excited to present this piece to you all for the Felix Rarepair Week prompts ‘modern AU’ and ‘hobby’!
> 
> A little bit about this particular AU: this is a vignette from a much longer continuity in which Felix, alienated from his friends and family after Glenn’s death, is encouraged by his school guidance counselor to join a club to help manage his mental health. He picks the photography club, where he meets Ashe and Flayn, and Felix spends the whole year becoming best friends with Ashe and learning how to cope with his feelings.
> 
> I had this outlined as a multi-chapter story but alas, I just don’t have the time with all my other writing to devote to such an endeavor! Instead, I give you this one-shot, which would have been a much-later-occurring scene in the original story. Luckily, it’s also one of the best parts.
> 
> Finally, Ashe is non-binary in this story, and uses they/them pronouns. Enjoy!

The summer of 2008 is a deceptively momentous one for Felix. It's the first full one without his older brother, for one, and an uncharacteristically aimless, anticlimactic prelude to high school for two. But Felix is fourteen, cranky and belligerent, and he doesn't care much for sentiment (though he is sure as hell fucking _ecstatic_ to have escaped the maw of middle school). As far as he's concerned, the milky heat of the Fhirdiad suburbs is just as constant as it ever was, the world and the universe doesn't have any strong opinions on who he is or why he's here, and his teenage apathy is in full swing. "Coming of Age" is really only a concept for those who've already arrived.

Oh, but there is one saving grace to this slow, uneventful season. Their name is Ashe Ubert.

On a surprisingly cool morning in mid-July, Felix wakes up and does the same thing he's done every day since school let out. He rolls out of bed, combs his unruly dark hair (which is only getting longer) with his fingers, pulls it into a messy bun and puts on as little clothing as possible before descending to the empty kitchen. He eats a granola bar, stuffs the rest of the box into his backpack, and pours himself a mug of cold coffee (he's not supposed to drink coffee, they say it'll stunt his growth, but does he look like he gives a shit?). His father is at work which is just as well, because Felix has no interest in talking to him. He hasn't since last fall. The best Rodrigue Fraldarius can do for his son is continue to bulk buy snacks to satisfy Felix's all-consuming appetite.

He leaves the empty house and hops helmetless onto his bicycle; morning dew clings to the cotton of his T-shirt, evaporating as the oppressive heat kicks in, a little later than normal but still unequivocally there. Sweat is shimmering across his skin when he rolls to a stop outside Ashe's house, finger twitching on the shiny bell fastened to his handlebars. As the trill sound rings across the lawn, a young adolescent sitting on the shaded steps lifts their head, silver hair buzzed short to beat the heat. Their eyes crinkle at the edges, the freckles splashed across their cheeks shifting as they smile and rise to their feet. "Right on time," they say, twisting their wrist in a quick graceful wave, walking to the very edge of the cool shadow cast by the large grey walls behind him. They used to be lime green, like Ashe's eyes, but that quirky character had been replaced with the clinical intent of neutrality. Grey sells houses, apparently.

Felix wheels his bike along the cement path and joins them briefly in the shade. "It's a bit messy, but did you want to come in?" Ashe asks, motioning back to the front door, shiny new molded wood hugged on either side by pretty, inoffensive topiaries in smooth white pots.

With the heat creeping over his shoulders, air conditioning certainly sounds enticing today. But Felix shakes his head. "No, let's just get going," he replies. He knows what he'll find in there: books stacked into boxes, large rooms stripped of all but the essential furniture. An undeniable reminder that the one good thing — the one good _person_ — to happen to Felix all year is going away. That he has no idea what he's going to do after. And undercutting it all is a nagging voice in the back of his head saying "why should you know what to do, anyway? You're just a kid, kid."

Ashe nods before Felix can get too lost in his brooding, picking up the colorful pack leaning against the stoop and stepping over to their own bike parked idly on the grass. "Where to, then?" Words spoken time and again, the same rhythm and cadence each time. It's not for lack of having their own ideas, their own hypothetical plans for draining away the endless daylight; it's just that Ashe always gives Felix the opportunity to pick first. He wonders if Ashe is as hyper-aware of the consistency as he is.

Today feels like a good day to be surprised, Felix decides. "You pick." The way Ashe smiles makes it clear that was the answer they were hoping for.

"The creek, then," Ashe suggests. "Everything is lush and green right now, and some of the plants are still in bloom. I'd love to get some pictures before..." They trail off, avoiding the topic they've unwittingly steered into. "I'd just love to get some pictures for my flora scrapbook," they course-correct quickly. “Plus we can swim if it gets too hot.”

There’s an exchange of affirmative nods, a slow walk back into the sun and over the curb onto the asphalt. Then they take off, following the stretch of road that taunts them with perpetually distant waves, a fluid mirage deceptively drawing them forward.

The ride takes them through a familiar grid of houses, past the middle and high schools to the far woody edge of the neighborhood. Railroad tracks mark a silent boundary and the buildings grow sparser, the sidewalks less frequent and the landscape less incorporated. An inconspicuous break in the trees is easy to miss for the uninitiated, but Felix and Ashe depart the street with a casual turn of their handlebars, coasting onto the semi-paved, semi-gravel trail that winds along the creek. Sunlight breaks through the leafy canopy of cottonwood trees in patches that cast mottled shadows over their summer-flushed faces.

Tree roots push defiantly through the sections of paved road, gnarly cracks that speak to how poorly maintained and wild the area is — it probably hasn’t seen a renovation in their lifetimes. Which only serves to make it more enticing, more otherworldly, and also less prone to being crowded by people. Felix is pretty sure that, if he couldn’t already identify their usual spot on sight, he would know it by the number of bumps he rode over. Which, last time he counted, is about thirty-seven.

Ashe is in the lead today, pedaling at a quick pace that speaks to their excitement. “How about we explore a bit farther than usual?” they suggest, keeping their speed as they round the next bend. They pass over bump thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty. Ashe doesn’t slow down. The road becomes all gravel at some point, the surrounding foliage more overgrown and, arguably, more beautiful. A great sycamore, its trunk mottled and peeling, comes into view and Ashe decides this is the place to stop, bringing their wheels to a halt with Felix not far behind.

They leave their rides in the tree’s protection, wheels settling into the scraggly divots of roots, sinking into soft patches of weedy grass and shed bark scattered across the ground like armored scales. “This way,” Ashe says, pointing off to a wall of dogwood obscuring the view of the water. Felix follows, squeezing through a tight corridor between the shrubs, leaves rustling and revealing a glimpse of the pale red branches peeking out from its summer trappings. They would be bright crimson and bare by the time winter came around, coating the whole abundantly verdant scene in ivory.

Felix watches his footing as he follows Ashe down the gentle slope of the creek bank. More young poplars rise from the moist soil, scraggly and stretched like a teenager after a growth spurt. Twigs and branches litter the ground, tucked beneath the shade of lady ferns with their large, fanning leaves that Felix brushes aside with the back of his hands. The creek itself is wide and winding, with long stretches of submerged tule and reeds which have captured Ashe's attention. They waste no time slipping off their sneakers and socks and stepping into the water, getting a closer look at the soft white tufts topping the slender stems of cotton-grass. Gentle wind makes musical instruments of the bulrush and dislodges puffs of seed that float on the currents and threaten to stick in Ashe and Felix's hair.

He stops halfway to the water and watches his friend marvel at the wildlife. Ashe slides one strap of their backpack off and rummages through the bag's contents before pulling out a black SLR camera, looping it over their neck and fiddling with the settings. It's one of many in their collection, though likely the only one they brought with them for this adventure. Ashe wades in the shallows and snaps photo after photo, alternating between wide shots of the landscape and close-up captures of drooping woolgrass blooms. Felix picks up a stick and idly breaks it into smaller and smaller pieces.

A mechanical click rouses him from the inane task and he looks up to find Ashe's lens peering at him from a few feet away, watching him like a clear unblinking eye. "Hey," Felix protests.

"You look really focused," Ashe teases, lowering the device and flashing another of their signature smiles.

"Not anymore," Felix scoffs, tossing the last few bits of brittle wood in his hand aside.

Ashe steps closer, offering him the camera. "You sure you don't want to come into the water? Take a few pictures?" They're clearly surprised by Felix's choosing cool observation, curious about his uncharacteristic stillness. He has trouble explaining away his lethargy, too, barely managing to shake his head; maybe it's the heat. Ashe shrugs and takes a seat next to him. Warmth rises in Felix's chest, brought on by their closeness, by their arms brushing together. "In that case," they start, eyes shimmering. "I can show you the film I developed from Flayn's birthday party."

Right, the party. It had been a few days ago, and one of the few times that summer when Felix had spent time with people who weren’t Ashe. Friends, he might wager, though the only thing they all shared in common was their membership in the Fhirdiad Middle School photography club. Which was irrelevant, now, since most of them were moving on to high school come September.

After the twice-buzzing lilt of a zipper, Ashe stows away their camera in favor of a small plastic-bound album, scooting even closer and laying the book across their and Felix’s legs. Felix opens it slowly: the first picture is a simple shot of a colorful, round cake littered with candles and, in addition to the usual sentiments, is hand-signed by the attending guests in icing. Felix spots his wobbly, cramped scrawl right beneath Ashe’s neat print. Next on the roll is the smiling face of a young green-haired girl, smiling widely and making a peace sign with her fingers, a slice of the same cake sitting on a paper plate in her other hand. “We really made her day,” Ashe muses.

“She invited us,” Felix says flatly. “She asked us to make the cake.”

“Moving on,” Ashe cuts in before Felix can sour the bright mood any further. There are several more scenes from the cake-cutting, various photo club members taking bites and somehow looking great doing it. That’s the kind of talent Ashe has, Felix thinks. They’re able to make anyone look natural, never stiff, always a little bit charming.

Oh, except when it’s a picture of Felix. “Ugh,” he groans when Ashe turns the next page, revealing Felix looking solemnly into the camera next to a still-beaming Flayn, a lopsided party hat strapped to his head. It’s a double-whammy, because on the opposite side he’s got his eyes shut tight with Flayn’s arms wrapped excitedly around his shoulder, mid-hop.

“You look great,” Ashe says, lingering on the two shots longer than the others they’ve been skimming through. Their hand lands on Felix’s shoulder soothingly. “Though you could stand to smile more,” they continue, flipping to the next spread of photos. They rotate the book sideways to better see the two posed group shots on the wide stairway of Flayn’s high-ceilinged living room, the shimmering curve of a chandelier visible in the corner. The first is a row of bright grins, save for Felix and his perpetually pursed lips. In the second is an array of goofy faces, twisted expressions and flailing hands. “I guess this one is close,” Ashe jokes, tracing over the plastic casing where Felix is pictured. His mouth is open and his tongue is peeking through his front row of teeth like he’s emitting a roar, his fingers bent to mimic claws.

Felix actively avoids looking at the image of himself. Instead he focuses on Ashe making a cross-eyed face beside him, their thumbs hooked into their ears and palms spread wide and flat like antlers. They’re just about always behind the camera, so it’s something special to see a rare capture of them. Whether Ashe notices Felix’s attention is unclear, but they flip to the next page anyway. “Ah. More of me,” Felix says with a hint of disappointment. Along with several other party-goers, he’s sitting on the rug with a GameCube controller in hand, his hat discarded next to him and his eyes fiercely set on a television screen displaying the familiar characters of Super Smash Bros. Melee. “Was this before or after everyone made me change the custom rulesets?”

“Is that still bothering you?” Ashe asks flatly.

“It never bothered me,” Felix replies dismissively, but his pout suggests otherwise. Ashe wisely ends the discussion prematurely by continuing to the next set. Felix stays mostly quiet after that, listening to Ashe’s brief commentary, watching the way they smile and laugh as they recall the details of each immortalized moment. Ashe remembers everyone’s names, what they like and dislike, the story behind each vignette. Ashe _cares_. About people they’re likely never to see again. Felix wonders, as he often does, why Ashe chose him, of all people, to be their friend.

As Ashe finally closes the album, their next words provide a good enough reminder. “Did your dad let you pre-order that new _Shield of the Inferno_ art book?”

“Yeah,” Felix says. He doesn’t need to mention that “letting him” equates to Felix rifling through his father’s credit card collection and crossing his fingers that the charge goes unnoticed. He knows the request would be approved, anyway, so Felix saves both of them time by skipping the asking part. Skipping the talking part. Ashe fortunately doesn’t needle him for details, already plenty excited by Felix's affirmation. Nothing gets Ashe Ubert revved up quite like fantasy graphic novel series _Shield of the Inferno_.

That’s right, Felix thinks. Most people are friends because they have shared interests, and not just because their parents all know each other and passed that connection on to their children. Not that he doesn’t have anything in common with Dimitri, or Ingrid or Sylvain. Tree-climbing, play-fighting and barbecues all come to mind. But then, so does Glenn; and if there’s one thing Felix has learned in the past year, it’s that it’s difficult to talk to someone who looks at you with dazed eyes that are clearly seeing someone else.

When Ashe looks at Felix, it’s with a clarity and curiosity that takes him aback, making him realize that he’s never really felt like the center of attention before. They’re looking at him that way now, all sparkle and smile. “I can’t wait to read all the creator interviews,” they say.

“Only you would care about the interview section of an _art_ book,” Felix teases.

“It’s too bad it won’t be releasing until the fall,” Ashe adds with a sigh, leaning back to lie against the ferns. “I would have liked to go through it with you.”

Silence falls between them again. Ever since Ashe broke the news about the move, they’ve actively avoided discussing it, or any of the future plans that have fallen by the wayside since. But as the date moves closer, it’s gotten more and more difficult to carry on as if nothing is changing. Felix tries anyway. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

Ashe groans, craning their head back and stomping their feet against the soft dirt. “No, I think I might just melt into the creek right about now,” they say, wiping sweat from their brow. Felix pushes to his feet, making his way carefully to the water. Ashe calls cautiously from behind him. “What are you up to over there?” Felix kicks off his shoes, each sneaker landing haphazardly among the foliage as he dips his toes into the cool water at the shore. His shirt is off next, prompting another wary sigh from Ashe. Felix dips the cotton into the creek, bunching the fabric together to create a makeshift container and then withdraws his arms from under the surface, carrying the dripping mass back up the slope of the bank.

“Are you serious right now?” Ashe asks, scrambling to stand and rushing to return the album into the safety of their backpack.

“You said you were hot,” Felix says, smirking. “I’m trying to help you out.” Water is draining from his shirt at a rapid pace, splashing against his sticky skin and over his shorts, turning the dirt dusting his legs into mud. Ashe has their hands raised defensively, stance wide as Felix approaches. They make a sudden break to the left, and Felix gives chase as well as he can with a shirt full of creekwater in his hands. It doesn’t last long, and he heaves what remains at Ashe as they sprint past, yelping as it splashes their leg.

“For goodness’ sake,” Ashe yells, their face twisting in disbelief, stopping now that the threat has been dispersed mostly onto the dirt. “You’re crazy!”

“I’m practical,” Felix responds with a shrug, walking slowly back to the shore for more.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Ashe protests, and the next thing Felix knows Ashe is tackling him down onto the ground. Or at least attempting to, but it ends up with Ashe’s arms around his waist and their knees sinking into the dirt, unable to budge him any further. Felix sighs, able to keep himself standing but not move, Ashe’s weight anchoring them both to the creek bank. He sighs, taking his soaked shirt in his hands and wringing it out right into Ashe’s hair, to the sound of loud groans that eventually fade into acceptance. “That’s… actually not that bad,” they admit.

“Are you going to let go of me, then?” Felix asks.

“Absolutely not,” Ashe replies stubbornly. “I’m staying here until my dad comes to drag me into the moving van. Flayn will bring me food.”

Felix chuckles, draping the shirt over his shoulder and relaxing. “Fine, then. Have it your way.”

Ashe replies with a determined cry and a shove into Felix’s abdomen that manages to bring him down this time, thudding hard into the dirt with a grunt. “Yeah, I guess I deserve that,” Felix concedes as he assesses the situation, wriggling his body in Ashe’s grip. His friend rolls off him with a tired huff, and Felix instinctively gives him a playful punch to the shoulder, the kind he would give to Dimitri after they got rowdy. Ashe tends to shy away from this kind of physical activity, and Felix wonders if his combative nature is rubbing off on them.

They lie in the dirt, eyes peering up at the canopy of green leaves fluttering in the wind, giving them glimpses of the blue sky above. Felix’s thoughts drift and his inhibition drops, boiled away by the heat that’s settling as water evaporates from his skin. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you around,” he breathes, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

At least they’re met with an understanding look from Ashe, who turns onto their side to gaze at him. “Hey, Flayn will still be here.”

Felix’s brow furrows. “Flayn only pretends to like me.”

“Uh… what?” Ashe asks, mirroring the expression. “Seriously, what? Flayn doesn't know the meaning of insincerity. She likes you. As a person.” Felix turns to them, noting the visible, uncharacteristic irritation. Ashe sighs deeply. “Honestly, Felix. Sometimes I think you just say things to hear how ridiculous they sound spoken aloud.”

It’s an apt criticism, and Felix can’t help but smile, secretly enjoying Ashe's annoyance. “Maybe I do.”

“You’re not the only one who’s at a loss,” Ashe says, returning to the earlier topic. “Everything is going to be new for me in Arianrhod. A completely blank slate.”

Felix turns to face him. “I could go for one of those right now, I think,” he says. “Maybe we can switch families. My dad _adores_ you.” Of course, anyone would adore Ashe, Felix thinks. Ingrid and Sylvain adore him, too, however briefly their paths have crossed in the past year. Meanwhile, Felix has wanted nothing more than to disappear. “Not that that would solve the main problem.”

Ashe flashes him a sly smile. “And what might that be?” they ask, and Felix tenses when he realizes what Ashe is expecting him to say. He’s essentially already said it, in the way he acts and the way he speaks, in the way they’ve been nigh inseparable all year, and especially their summer vacation.

They’re easy words. _I’m going to miss you_. But Felix can’t say them.

“If you could go back to the day before Glenn died,” Ashe starts, interrupting the storm of Felix’s thoughts. “Knowing you couldn’t change anything, that it was only a last opportunity to see him again. Would you do anything differently?”

The sound of his brother’s name on Ashe’s lips makes Felix’s heart beat furiously; the two have been so satisfyingly separate, perfectly complementary. Glenn disappeared from his life, and Ashe entered. Except now Ashe is leaving, and even though it’s not as final as death it’s still an absence that Felix will have to handle, a tightening in his chest that will grip him for a long time to come. And he knows that Ashe is leaving, so what is he going to do about it? What can he say or do to make it easier?

“Shit,” Ashe mumbles, and Felix wonders how long he’s been quiet, lost in his head. They’ve both rolled back onto their backs, not looking at each other. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. I shouldn’t have brought him up. It’s—”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Felix replies. It was foolish for him to think he could divide his life so cleanly for so long. Lying here, under the oppressive summer heat and cradled in the dirt — not too different from the earth his brother is buried in — Felix realizes that he can’t keep running from everything. Also, he can’t stay mad at Ashe.

“You don’t have to answer.”

Felix swallows, relieved to have reached an understanding. “I won’t, then.”

Summer hangs thick in the air like a blanket, and Felix feels strangely euphoric, like a schism in his heart has been mended. He also thinks it might not be a bad time for a nap. Maybe if Ashe was just a little bit closer…

“If it were me, I would want to take a picture, I think,” Ashe says suddenly. It takes Felix a moment to realize what they’re talking about.

He laughs. “Of course you would.”

“A polaroid,” they specify.

“Very retro.”

Ashe turns to face him again, fully recovered from their earlier embarrassment. “I have one with me, you know.”

“A polaroid camera?” Felix asks, his head falling idly to the side.

“Yeah,” Ashe confirms with a nod. They push up to a seat, looking back towards where they left their bags. Then they crawl closer to Felix, looming over him with a glint in their eyes. “Let’s take a couple shots, of the two of us,” they say, their gaze drifting again. After a pause, they turn back, clearly alight with energy. “You just have to promise not to die tomorrow, alright?”

Felix scowls. “I can’t promise that.” No one can. He knows that too well.

They only shrug. “So what? Say you promise me and die tomorrow. Is that so bad?”

“Breaking promises is generally considered bad, yes,” Felix says with a roll of his eyes.

“So is shoplifting, yet I’ve done it,” Ashe retorts. Felix remembers the day Ashe admitted that to him, how unbelievable it was. The way their green eyes shimmered wistfully, the air of accepting guilt. The image of little thirteen-year-old Ashe lamenting their former life of crime was not something he’d soon forget. And they still seem as mature about it as they did back then. “I can’t really undo it. But I moved on with my life regardless.” It borders on flippancy, but Felix knows Ashe well enough to detect the sincerity.

He sits up, trying to re-focus. “This is stupid. If I promise, can we take the damn picture?”

Ashe’s eyes flash again, their teeth bright with a grin much too impish to be drawn across their face. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Duh.”

Felix sighs. “Fine. I promise…” he starts, but Ashe is looking at him very expectantly, their face suddenly so close, and he stumbles a bit. “I promise I won’t die tomorrow, alright?”

Their head tilts coquettishly to the side. “Maybe throw the next day in while you’re at it.”

“Get the camera, Ashe.”

“Alright, alright!”

They spring up into a run, and when they return there’s the clunky, awkward shape of a white Polaroid camera in their hands, plastered in stickers. Ashe settles down next to Felix, their shoulders bumping together as Ashe pops the contraption open and examines the controls. “I’ll take a test shot first,” they say, pointing the lens over to the creek, eye to the viewfinder as they settle into their most natural state. There’s a click and the whirr of film ejecting, and Ashe carefully pulls out the resulting image, examines it for a moment and places it delicately on the ground beside them. “Still works!”

“We’ll need to take two,” Felix says. “One for each of us.”

Ashe turns to him, lips curled upward as they turn the camera around, testing the weight of it in their hands. “Promise you’ll smile in mine, at least.”

Two promises in a day. Felix is racking them up, he thinks. “Alright.”

That seems to please them, and Ashe leans in closer, their cheeks near flush with each other. “Smile on three. One, two…”

The first picture snaps, and Ashe retrieves the photo quickly before raising their arm again. “And another one,” they say. “Ready?” Felix hums affirmatively. He smiles in both of them, telling himself that it’ll be nicer for their photos to be as similar as possible. So they can look back on the day with the same sentiment. There are far too many pictures without Felix smiling in them already, anyway.

With the capture done Ashe fans the three developing shots in their hand like cards, trembling with anticipation as they resist shaking. Felix watches as the amorphous outlines of their faces begin to materialize, manifesting into being along with the still image of the water and the trees. Their eyes and mouths begin to take shape, Felix’s features still sharp and dramatic even with a smile on his lips; Ashe’s whole countenance shines like they are the embodiment of the sun. “We look cute,” Ashe says, voice kind and affectionate. They turn to Felix, wearing the same grin reflected back in their hands. “You look cute,” they specify, and Felix tries to convince himself that Ashe isn’t deliberately trying to reclaim the space that’s formed between them. He tries to convince himself that he doesn’t want to drift back to them.

His mouth moves, slowly. “Ashe, I’m—”

“I’m going to miss you,” Ashe says, stealing the words Felix was finally ready to say. And then, they steal Felix’s lips too, seal them with their own, and somehow Felix is ready for that too.

It is so quick and so sudden that Felix can barely take in the details, can’t determine what Ashe tastes like or the exact measure of softness of their lips. He has no poetry to describe the feeling being injected into his veins. It is also Felix’s first kiss, so it’s not like he has anything to compare it to. Which means it is also the best kiss.

The second one is better, preceded by a quick glance when they part from the first, Ashe’s nose scrunching mischievously and tapping Felix’s shoulder like they’re waiting, counting the seconds to some unknown event. Felix initiates with unwarranted confidence, the same way he approaches all things, but Ashe cups his face and guides him, demonstrating an ease and knowledge that Felix is not surprised they have. Ashe’s tongue slips in experimentally, and Felix leans into it curiously, uncertainly. He pulls away. “Sorry,” Ashe whispers. “Too much?”

Felix exhales, leans his forehead against theirs. “No. But I like… being here…” His eyes flutter closed and Ashe’s fingers creep along the nape of his neck, his warm breath mingling with the heat. “And I like you.” Then, finally, after chewing on his bottom lip for what feels like an eternity: “And I’m going to miss you.”

“Lie down,” Ashe says, and Felix looks at him with what must be a hint of fear, because Ashe follows it up with a quick reassurance. “Relax, I’m not… we’re not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” they say. “You just look like you really want a nap.” Felix shrugs and complies, dropping first to his elbows and then onto his back. Then Ashe lowers to join him, their head resting on Felix’s bare chest, humming happily as they settle.

Once they are both still, the reality of the last few minutes sinks in, and Felix actually accepts it. He allows it to be, and he doesn’t question what it means in the same way Ashe has never questioned whether or not Felix is his friend. Another breeze sweeps over the water and the bank, swishing the grass and carrying the scent of summer with it.

When he’s just on the verge of sleep, he mumbles: “Hey, Ashe?”

An equally tired voice answers: “Yes, Felix?”

“You’re a good person,” Felix tells them, eyes scanning the mottled skyscape.

Ashe takes a moment, considering. “I’m… glad you think that.”

“You are. Don’t stop being good.”

Their voice is soft, nearly inaudible, liminal like the last moments before slumber. “Okay. I won’t. Promise.” Felix can almost pinpoint the exact moment they drift into unconsciousness.

He joins them shortly afterward.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm also on twitter: @riahk


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